Nothing says “ambitious parent” more than banging on about the need for children to be bored.
Guilty as charged. “Boredom means you develop your own interior life,” the American theatre critic Hilton Als once said. I was so taken by the quote I printed it off, framed it and placed it in my home as an advertisement of my parenting creed.
Or at least, it was my parenting creed. Now I’m having second thoughts about the benefits of boredom. The trigger was reading a new book, The Disease of Boredom: From Ancient Philosophy to Modern Psychology by Josefa Ros Velasco, a Spanish academic who is president of – no joke – the International Society of Boredom Studies.
Having seen Spain play in the World Cup, Madrid seems like the right fit for this research institute. I do appreciate the precision of Spain’s short-passing game, but the world champions are dull to watch over 90-120 minutes.
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Back, however, to Ros Velasco’s book, which is meticulously researched – and not boring at all. Tracing the history of boredom, or more precisely attitudes towards it, she says boredom was for centuries seen as “the cause of our misfortunes, the punishment of humanity. The ancients saw it as a shameful condition resulting from a lack of devotion to the community ... In the Middle Ages, it was included in the list of mortal sins as acedia”.
This changed during the Renaissance, which “was the first era to give complex boredom a new kind of value, especially as it merged with melancholy”, she writes. Intense, moody ennui was seen as the font of “genius”, or the psychological wellspring that gave rise to “great men” of science and learning.
She sees echoes of this thinking in modern parents who “deliberately let children be bored in the belief that its effects will turn them into gifted children”. Better to call it wishful thinking, according to Ros Velasco, because it’s impossible to predict whether boredom will result in a positive or negative outcome. It could lead to a creative impulse – like doodling on a page – or just as easily an angry outburst. It might even lead, over time, to despondency or despair.
What exactly happens to your mind when you are bored? “Our cortical arousal levels drop as a result of uninteresting, monotonous, repetitive, or meaningless situations. The clock stops, and life is emptied of sensation, losing all sense and plunging us into an unbearable discomfort,” Ros Velasco says.
“Boredom is so painful that no one in their right mind would desire the torment to which it subjects us, only tortured souls who naively believe they will find catharsis in suffering.”
Based on this account, anyone who uses boredom as a parenting tool is committing child cruelty of sorts. Or, at least, committing hypocrisy. After all, you don’t want to be bored. And, if boredom causes you pain, why would you inflict it on a loved one?
There is a difference, of course, between non-intervention when a child says “I’m bored”, and actively willing your child to endure tedium or deliberately creating the conditions for this. By dragging your kids to a remote holiday home with no wifi, you may not want the little darlings to actually suffer boredom. It’s more likely you want them to experience mild discomfort before they immerse themselves in a pleasant, and crucially productive, activity outside of screens.
The act is played out across Ireland this summer as parents confiscate digital devices, telling children: “Go make your own fun! Go read a book!” But what message exactly is being conveyed by these tactics? Treating reading as a type of punishment is unlikely to create a love of literature.
“One could argue,” says Ros Velasco, “that the solution lies not in leaving children to entertain themselves but in equipping them with the tools to channel boredom into functional responses.” Encourage them to find joy in meaningful things. Or if that sounds difficult, show them you don’t need a smartphone to be entertained yourself.
It’s not that there aren’t circumstances where “let them be bored” is a justifiable philosophy. But there is a risk of it tipping into authoritarianism.
Adults create their own myths, and one of the most enduring fictions is the idea that you’d be living a fuller, more successful life – the life you were meant to live – if only you’d endured a bit more hardship as a kid. If only you’d stuck with those excruciating piano lessons. If only you’d spent your Saturday mornings memorising Latin verbs instead of watching TV. Then, you would have amounted to something.
The truth is, much of the criticism we level against children stems from frustration with how our own lives turned out. And that frustration can easily turn into resentment. The claim that boredom “improves” kids not only lacks evidence. It is mean-spirited.
Young people will inevitably encounter boredom – it’s part of living. Why deliberately inflict more? You might be bored with aspects of your life. Or maybe you’re an “all work and no play” kind of grown-up (and I direct this at myself). But don’t take it out on the kids. Perhaps the best you can do – the only thing you can do – as a parent is to model what a fulfilling life looks like yourself.
